


Punishment

by bluehawthorn



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Dark Thorin, Dubious Consent, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), Erebor, Gold Sickness, Legolin, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Power Differences, Slash, Smut, Spanking, Thorgolas, Throne Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 17:32:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3863338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehawthorn/pseuds/bluehawthorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas is sent to ease relations between Mirkwood and Erebor, and Thorin takes his revenge in an unexpected way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> Because dark!Thorin is really fun to write. Because there is a serious shortage of Thorin/Legolas smut in the world. And because this prompt totally got stuck in my head:  
> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/14338.html?thread=25535234#t25535234
> 
> Please heed warning in tags re. dubious consent.

Legolas walks warily into the throne room of Erebor, flanked by two glowering dwarves who remain stationed at the entrance. 

Directly ahead lies Thorin, who sits hunched and menacing atop his large stone throne. He is laden in heavy dark furs and embroidered cloth and a jagged metal crown sits on his head. 

When he reaches the throne, Legolas bows down onto one knee. “My father, King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, has sent me to give tribute to the new King Under the Mountain.”

Thorin looks up, pinning Legolas to the spot with an icy, evaluating gaze. “Has he now?” 

Legolas stops himself from rising and taking a step back. Despite all of the stories he grew up on of greedy and untrustworthy dwarves, Legolas is unprepared for the sneering presence that is now before him. 

This version of Thorin seems very unlike the fiercely determined dwarf he met in Mirkwood, majestic and self-possessed even in captivity and a passionate advocate for his people. Now he is all sharp-edged ice where in Mirkwood he was tempered heat and flame.

So this is gold sickness. His father had warned him of the curse of Thorin's bloodline and the treasure in this mountain. He is surprised however that it took effect so quickly.

Thorin looks towards the entranceway, his voice booming across the wide open space. “Leave us.”

At this, Legolas feels a small ember of curiosity kindle in his gut, and another feeling that lives on the knife’s edge between excitement and fear.

The gold-fevered king frightens but also intrigues him. Growing up with a father who so often hid his true feelings behind a shield of detachment, Legolas has developed a tendency to throw his own warmth against any coldness he finds in the world, willing it to thaw.

And Thorin, who continues to simply look at him with those piercingly intelligent eyes, is alluring even in his sickness. Whereas Thranduil is merely cool and haughty in his distance, Thorin's coldness burns. There is an intensity about him even now, something radiating and utterly present that is very unlike the withdrawn composure and control of his father.

Finally Thorin speaks again in that rich, compelling voice that is so deep it sounds like the bones of the earth shifting. "So your father wishes to be allies again after all his betrayals.” Thorin lets out a quick, dismissive laugh.“Does he offer penance for his crimes against my people then?” His head tilts in a predatory way. "Or has he sent his son to bear the weight of compensation?"

Legolas finds his breath growing quicker and that feeling, that mixture of anxiety and anticipation, swells higher into his chest. He does not understand exactly what Thorin is implying but the stakes of this visit suddenly feel much higher.

Looking down at the ground, Legolas says quietly, “I do not know what my father intends. I only know that he bid me come to you and...to do what you asked of me."

Suddenly Thranduil's words, spoken so offhandedly that Legolas thought little of them at the time, come back to Legolas more clearly.

Thranduil paced in his own throne room, his long robes trailing behind him. "Offer him tribute, appeal to his pride and do what he asks. He distrusts me too much for me to go myself, but perhaps you can do what is needed to curb the animosity between our kingdoms. Thorin Oakenshield has something of ours we must reclaim and he will soon be a dangerous enemy. I would avoid going to war with him if it can be done."

Legolas, who tends to think his father exaggerates in such matters, had nodded and left, imagining himself going to Erebor and offering his presence as a mere formality to help open negotiations for return of the Gems of Lasgalen between his father and the dwarf king. It is slowly dawning on him that it may end up being much more. The thought sends a strange thrill through him as much as it spikes his instinct of self protection.

“He did, did he?” asks Thorin, his voice somehow even lower and bearing a rougher edge that seems to resonate right through the floor to where Legolas remains kneeling. 

“Stand,” Thorin orders. "Come closer." Legolas obeys, striding to the foot of the steps to the throne.

Thorin looms over him. “Would you accept punishment on behalf of your father? Would you atone for the damage done between our people?”

Punishment? Now there is real fear thrumming through Legolas’ limbs.

“Would you imprison me?” he asks. This is his greatest fear, to be locked away underground.

Thorin chuckles darkly. “Imprison you, no. I was thinking of something a little more....personal.”

Legolas considers trying to escape for a moment, but surely Thorin’s men would stop him before he reached the gates or would shoot him before he got far from them. He recognizes he must submit and bows his head in surrender. “I am at your mercy, my lord.”

Thorin smiles, obviously enjoying the power he has here. Although his words seem meant to comfort, his tone is not comforting at all. "Do not be afraid Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood. No lasting harm will come to you. You may even enjoy what I have in mind.”

Thorin gestures him even closer. Legolas hesitates but does as he is bid and closes the distance between himself and the king. When he reaches the top of the stairs, Thorin reaches out and with a surprising quickness pulls Legolas off of his feet and down hard across his lap. 

The breath rushes from his lungs in shock and with the impact of his stomach and chest against Thorin's broad thighs. He struggles to right himself, but Thorin holds him there with a strength that is as unyielding as the mountain itself.

"Be still boy," the king orders him, his voice firm but this time not entirely unkind. 

Legolas tries to relax his body, to submit to whatever Thorin is planning, hoping that if he does not resist it will go easier for him. "That's it," says Thorin, who begins moving a hand over Legolas’ back with a calming touch. 

He still does not understand what Thorin intends, but the touch along his spine is soothing and being this near the dwarf king is intoxicating. He can smell Thorin, his scent heady and entirely his own. Legolas reaches for something to compare it to and can think only of veins of metal through stone, coals at the end of a long blaze, thunder.

But then suddenly he is flooded with fear and humiliation as Thorin's hand finds his way down and settles over his buttocks, stroking and then kneading. He squirms to release himself and again Thorin pins him down under one of his massive forearms. He feels Thorin's free hand pull away and then it lands with loud resounding blow on Legolas' behind.

His mouth opens involuntarily and he cries out in surprise and pain. Thorin's hand caresses over the area he just assaulted and then his hand comes up and collides hard with Legolas' other cheek. 

Legolas is struggling again, overcome with disbelief. He has never experienced this before or anything like it. Spanking is not common amongst elves, even in childhood. And Legolas is unused to feeling helpless like this. He is strong and agile, a warrior, and there are few creatures in Middle Earth who could overpower him as Thorin is doing now.

Although perhaps he is not doing everything he could to get away. He feels....torn. This is something else he is unused to feeling.

Part of him wants to resist while part of him knows that it is his duty to submit. And even more confusing, some until-now-secret part of him _wants_ to submit. If this is the punishment Thorin wants to deal him then perhaps he wants to take it and out of more than simple responsibility to his king and kingdom.

Thorin's hand descends again and Legolas decides not to fight.

A dark sound of satisfaction rises from Thorin as Legolas stops struggling and instead goes pliant over his knee. He takes a moment to rub the throbbing left in the wake of his hand, saying, "You like this, Princeling. I thought you might. Elves are not so high and mighty after all. Even the son of the king can be brought to hand, and enjoys it at that."

Legolas face burns with embarrassment, but he also knows that what Thorin says is at least partly true. To his dismay he can feel himself growing hard. Thorin, almost as if sensing this, hauls his body forward as though he weighs nothing, so that Legolas now dangles further forward across Thorin's lap, his groin pressed against the side of the dwarf's thigh.

The friction makes Legolas groan before he can swallow back the sound. 

Thorin responds by stretching his arm across Legolas back and pulling him more powerfully against his lap so that he can feel the dwarf’s own erection press against his ribs. And then swiftly, before Legolas can respond, Thorin grabs the hem of his breeches and pulls them down so that his skin is bare from waist to thigh.

He gasps and starts to turn in Thorin’s grasp, but before he can even fully register this new debasement, Thorin’s palm comes down hard once and then again. 

He does not let Legolas recover in between this time, but instead begins to strike him relentlessly. One buttock bears the brunt of a stinging slap and then the other until Legolas loses his ability to think under the onslaught of sensation, his cock growing heavy and wet and his breath coming in short desperate pants.

“That's it, boy,” Thorin says. His voice sounds debauched and it sends a quivering of excitement right through the core of Legolas, who suddenly finds himself arching his hips up in anticipation of the next blow.

They keep coming for a few minutes, each one a defilement but also a dark thrill, and then as suddenly as it started Thorin stops and releases him. 

Legolas slides in a very undignified, unelfish manner off of Thorin's knees and pulls himself to standing, drawing up his breeches as quickly as he can. It is obvious from Thorin's gaze however that he has not missed the arousal he has caused.

Legolas' face is flushed and his hair and clothing are in disarray. The flesh of his buttocks is tingling and raw. He attempts to smooth himself and regain his bearings.

Thorin laughs quietly, looking up at him with a smirk on his face, his eyes glinting. Legolas has no idea what to do or say. Nothing in his centuries of life has prepared him for this.

"You did well," says Thorin, lounging arrogantly back on his throne. "If you wish, my men will show you to chambers where you can collect yourself. They will bring you back here tonight and we can discuss the terms I wish you to take to your father."

And Thorin looks at him with a calculating leer that sets desire alight along every treacherous nerve in his body.

"Or, if you like, dutiful son that you are, you can stay here with me and we can arrange for more punishment to ease the relations between Mirkwood and the kingdom of Erebor. But this time I will leave the decision to you. Regardless you will be free to go in the morning."

Legolas stands looking back at Thorin, filled with a mixture of longing and shame. This is the ultimate punishment, he thinks, to make him choose his own degradation or go unfulfilled. Legolas tries to summon the strength to walk away but the truth is that he is snared. He wants more.

And Thorin knows it. “You’re not leaving, Prince of Mirkwood,” he says, smiling. “Does that mean you wish to stay?” 

Legolas hesitates, and then, eyes downcast, nods slowly.

“Very well,” says Thorin. “Come.” And he gestures once more to his lap.

He moves forward and Thorin takes hold of him, drawing his legs up so that he is straddling the dwarf king in his throne. 

Thorin begins to undress him, and as he does he sits up straighter and effortlessly shifts Legolas in his lap so that he can better lean forward to draw the heat of his mouth over his neck and collarbones. Soon Legolas is gasping and arching into Thorin's touch. 

One of Thorin's arms curls around his lower back and draws him forward so that their pelvises are grinding together. Thorin is now losing his cold demeanour and is drawing his free hand roughly over the bare skin of Legolas' chest and stomach. At one point it wraps around his silver-gold hair and Thorin tugs hard, pulling him down into a hot, hard, breath-stealing kiss. Thorin tastes sweet and slightly metallic, like rainwater, and his tongue is strong and seeking in Legolas' mouth.

His hands find their way to Thorin's shoulders and soon he is brave enough to run one of them through the dwarf king's long black and silver hair. When he does, Thorin pulls back to consider him for a moment. 

He is by no means who he was before but there is a slight softening in his face that Legolas finds irresistible...to think that perhaps he is awakening something slumbering in this powerful man, even through the gold sickness.

Thorin draws his fingertips slowly down Legolas spine and it makes him shudder deliciously. He feels himself becoming completely enthralled to Thorin's lust, the energy of which he can feel building in the dwarf king like a storm.

"Stand," Thorin orders. "Undress completely." 

Legolas obeys, stripping out of his breeches and standing naked before the throne. "Mmmmm," Thorin hums appreciatively and Legolas feels exposed but also glad to be found pleasing.

He opens his arms and Legolas climbs back astride him. Thorin does not embrace him immediately but instead leans back and smiles seductively, asking, ""Will you let me fuck you, Princeling? Diplomatic considerations or no, I will not take you if you are unwilling."

Valar, that voice. It is so deep it rumbles through his ribcage and sets his blood molten. It would be impossible for him to turn back now, and so he answers, "I am willing." He leans forward to kiss Thorin, which Thorin allows, a low groan surfacing in his throat. 

He lays one thick arm up the length of Legolas' back, his hand splaying across the span of his shoulder blades, holding him steady while his other hand reaches down and encircles his cock. He begins stroking skillfully and Legolas' head falls back and he cannot keep himself from crying out. He is losing all sense of his own will and knows he will do anything Thorin tells him to. 

Thorin chuckles. "If only your father could see you now." He rolls his hips so that Legolas is pinned against his hardness.

Legolas imagines for a moment Thranduil's reaction to this scene - his son's slender body bare on the lap of the fully clothed dwarf king, writhing and wanton. The thought only makes Legolas want Thorin more.

Thorin continues to torment Legolas with his hand, slowly and deliberately building the desire that is already heavy and pulsing in his gut, and the gathering tension in his thighs. He wets two of the fingers of his other hand on his own tongue and reaches back around to lay them against the entrance into Legolas' flesh. 

He can feel himself quivering against the touch and then stretching as he is breeched by one of Thorin's fingers and eventually another. The sensation of it mixes with that of Thorin's palm squeezing his cock, and he is nearly undone.

"Hush, breathe boy. Do not let go quite yet," says Thorin. "I want to enjoy you. Besides, you are here to atone for your father's transgressions, not only for yourself."

With that Thorin crooks his fingers and they brush against his prostrate, making Legolas whimper and rock into the touch. And then Thorin withdraws his fingers and Legolas feels bereft. 

Thorin reaches down and frees his own cock from beneath his robes. It is large and swollen and Legolas cannot help but draw in a shaking breath as it is revealed. For a moment he balks at what he is about to do and Thorin sees it. With a small smile, Thorin says, "Be a good boy, now. I want you to ride me."

With another deep breath, Legolas both resigns and resolves himself to taking this thing to completion and carrying it as a secret for the rest of his long life. 

They kiss again and then Thorin slicks himself with saliva and Legolas positions himself over his cock. He lowers, slowly impaling himself on the dwarf king’s length and it is a fullness unlike any he has ever known.

Elf flesh is resilient, and they have muscle control that other races do not. Although there is some pain as he takes Thorin, Legolas is able to relax and open just enough that it is more intensity than discomfort. But even so he must still for a few moments and allow his body to adjust before beginning to move. 

And then, when he is ready, he lifts himself up and begins to ease back down. He is utterly transfixed by the look on Thorin's face as he does so, all the seething power of the dwarf's presence focused on him, his features suffused with pleasure as he penetrates deep into Legolas' body. Legolas stares back captivated and his breath comes heavy and fast. 

Thorin flexes forward and his cock hits that sensitive place inside and then Legolas is clutching at Thorin's robes and Thorin is grasping his hips and thrusting up into him. It is rough and nearly more than he can bear but it is also freeing. Something wild and usually forgotten except perhaps in moments of battle is rising up in him, and it is like a part of his own power returned to him. He abandons himself to it, riding Thorin fiercely.

Several times Thorin reaches down as Legolas draws himself up, and wets his shaft with more saliva to ease its passage. Legolas wonders that even in the hold of madness and lust and the revenge he is asserting over Mirkwood through him, Thorin cares enough about his comfort to do such a thing. He thinks that despite everything, Thorin will be a good king if he can conquer the thrall of gold.

But then all thought is gone. Thorin is growling and his fingers are digging into Legolas’ hipbones hard enough to leave bruises. He draws his tongue over the palm of his hand and again wraps it around Legolas' cock, fondling him with a firm press of his hand.

Soon an orgasm is howling up inside him, a tempest of pleasure that feels like it is tearing him apart. He slams himself down onto Thorin as his body convulses, his seed marking the front of the king's robes. He is wracked with spasm after spasm of sensation until he is wrung from it and feels himself go limp in Thorin's arms.

Thorin continues to fuck him, his hand tangling in Legolas’ hair and wrenching his head to one side so that he can bite the place where his shoulder meets his neck and mark him there. At the same time Legolas can feel Thorin begin to throb inside him and the hot wet spurting of the dwarf king’s spend as it fills him. The sound Thorin makes as he climaxes is violent and animal and mixed with the guttural syllables of the dwarves’ secret language.

A few last thrusts and Thorin's body relaxes and Legolas collapses against him. Thorin's hands massage along his lower back and hips for a few moments before he lifts Legolas and pulls free of his body. He draws Legolas closer for a moment and kisses him, lazy and open-mouthed.

Then he settles back in his throne and looks up smiling crookedly. "I am impressed with you, Legolas of the Woodland Realm. You will have your wish of peace between our kingdoms, although whenever possible I wish to deal directly with you rather than your insufferable father. I will give you the necklace that he so covets to take back with you. You may tell him that I will call on your people in a time of need and if they answer then the rest of the gems will also be his.”

Legolas bows his head in understanding. "Thank you. That is gracious and fair."

"Now, dress yourself. My men will take you to your guest chambers. There are too many orcs roaming for you to travel back in the dark." 

Legolas remains in Thorin’s lap and hesitates, wishing he knew what to say about this tremendous thing that has happened. Thorin looks back and his smile takes on a heated edge. “If you wish to have more, I can visit you again tonight.”

Legolas is surprised at the offer. He had thought that what had passed between them was finished. The idea that perhaps it is not sends a small thrill through him. It is like an addiction, the unexpected attention of this gold-sick king.

“If it pleases you my lord, then yes, I would happily receive you.”

Thorin chuckles, low and quiet. “Then receive me you will. Now go.” And he lifts Legolas to his feet, swats him lightly on his behind and watches him descend the stairs. And Legolas cannot help but smile as he bends to gather up his scattered garments, his body sore and satisfied, yet also still hungry for what is to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Characters, settings and plot from the Hobbit do not belong to me. I just borrow them to write porn. 
> 
> Comments joyfully welcomed, and much appreciated.


End file.
